


Looking back, could I have done it differently?

by Aki_of_Eyluvial



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Character Study, Inspired by Music, M/M, but some people can't stop, light fluff, love is an endless dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_of_Eyluvial/pseuds/Aki_of_Eyluvial
Summary: Character study on how they fell together, then apart, and maybe together again.Sometimes not in that order, sometimes yes.
Relationships: Benvolio Montague/Tybalt, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague/Tybalt, Mercutio/Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Looking back, could I have done it differently?

Most people didn’t know him, they would call him difficult, and wild, and chaotic. Erratic even. Mercutio was nothing of sort, or… well, he was complicate, that was true, wild in some ways, except not in the one people thought. In truth, he was free, and he would be damned if someone tried to take it from him.

Never, not even once, he thought his ways to be wrong, why should he, after all? He wasn’t doing anything terribly wrong in the end, just because he couldn’t commit to only one person, that didn’t mean he was wrong, or bad, or whatever the world may think of him anyway.

He had too much to give, too much love to just give it to one single person without drowning them. The problem was another, not him for sure. The problem was the world couldn’t understand his needs. Not in a selfish way, more in a survival way. Taking his freedom away, Mercutio knew it, would kill him.

~~

Benvolio was ten the day they met, still a child, knowing nothing of the world and, for sure, nothing of love. He was quiet, looking from a distance, keeping his younger cousin out of trouble as much as he could, they were so different that no one would even bet on their friendship. No one but them.

In their differences they found some sort of balance, Benvolio learned.

He learned of the world, he learned of the feud, learned to fight and to protect, to talk of peace and to dance on the edge of a knife. He learned what it felt like when Mercutio would take his hand to run and, as time moved on, faster and faster, he held that hand a little tighter. 

Growing up balance turned into stability, it was, once again, like a dance and he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop.

Closing his eyes Benvolio could remember all the little details of that life, his life, when the world seemed right and nothing ever could go wrong. Growing up in the Montague family he thought perfection would be achieved by being a good, obedient young man, following rules, being respectful, taking care of his cousin. They never opposed to his friendship with the Prince’s nephew, -  _ But thinking carefully now they probably had other ideas of that friendship, other plans. Plans of gaining more power. So much for their so called morality. _ \- but he was also sure they never expect friendship to turn into… Well, into that. Into  _ love. _

Mercutio knew love already, he had his own vision, maybe a little distorted or strange in Benvolio’s eyes but after all he was no expert in such a matter, he let Mercutio guide him and teach him. 

The first kiss was nothing more than a peak on his lips, shy and tentative, Mercutio laughed as his cheeks tinted red, he threw his head back and sounded like an echo of thousands crystals. Benvolio grabbed his face and kissed him again to stop his laughter. -  _ He secretly, but not too much, loved that sound _ . -

The first night they spent together was no different from dozen nights before, when Mercutio would sneak in his room and in his bed, nestle around his side, his chin carefully placed on his neck. The first night he was just a little bolder, just a little bit, not even much.

Benvolio thought he knew what perfection was in that moment, the way their hands would fit in each others, the way his voice could sooth every worry with the same ease he created them. It was good, it was perfect, and Benvolio was so blinded by love to forget that even the most perfect thing in the world could go wrong.  _ Especially the most perfect thing. _ He wanted more, he wanted to be with him more than anything, for around Mercutio there was no quarrel, no feud that would ever scare him. Around Mercutio nothing could go wrong.

_ Except for them, perhaps. _

But he was young at the time. Too much young to understand.

~~

Tybalt was angry, that was no surprise to anyone, fed since his youth on talks of hate and feuds and fights -  _ and more hate, because it was never enough.  _ \- by his uncle. But there was a sort of innocence in his anger, if one would look close, because still fourteen he was, did the world really expect him to hate with all his heart a cause he knew nothing of at such a young age?

Truth to be told he never really embraced that hate, only seeked the approval in his uncle's eyes, and even then he rarely got it. That's why what happened with mercutio wasn't as strange as most people would think. 

Meeting him had been accidental, mostly, the Prince's nephew ran around Verona right behind the Montague boys; while all the other Capulets would look at that with pity, voice whispering  _ "What is he even seeing in them? He should be with us, only then he would ensure more power once he becomes Prince himself." _ , he quietly wondered what it felt like. Being free, being trusted, trusting someone like they seemed to do. Secretly he wondered what those hands would feel like in him, fingers brushing through his hair, tracing the side of his face, down his cheek, what his mouth would feel like on his skin. Would it burn him? Freeze him? He looked at him and benvolio and dared to dream. 

Until dreaming wasn't enough anymore, until Mercutio found his way on him and found the young Capulet heir not shrugging him off. 

"I can't." He wanted to say. "I won't." He was almost desperate to cry out, instead he packed his things, looked back one last time and kissed Juliet's forehead as a goodbye, she was the only one who cared enough, he couldn’t leave without a goodbye. There was no turning back now. 

_ So young, so naive, so innocent.  _

He left behind the life he knew, the world he knew, for what? 

He thought love would be eternal, but that was only in stories, in the stories he would read in secret to Juliet to let her dream a little longer in her innocence. He ended up believing in them too and look where that lead him. -  _ He hoped she wouldn’t make the same mistake when time would come.  _ -

If only he had been wiser, if only he learned about Mercutio just a little more before following him. 

_ If only. _

That was their life now. An endless  _ if only _ repeated over and over and over. 

He learned of Mercutio the hard way, he learned when the Escalus’ heir set his eyes on yet another boy or girl, when the music stopped and the dance ended and all tybalt had left was a bunch of broken shards. That's when he learned it couldn't be perfect, that Mercutio would always need more, too wild, too free.  _ More than him anyway. _ \-  _ And yet, despite his heart screaming for it, he couldn't bring himself to blame him. _ \- 

~~

That was when, while kneeling to pick up those pieces scattered around himself, thinking of what his life would be now, he met another hand. And an arm, and a body, and an oh so familiar face. And that hand was holding gently one of his pieces, one that fell a bit farther. 

"I  _ thought _ I knew him. And still he _burned_ me." 

Tybalt took the piece from his hand. He was a Montague, but for reasons unknown he couldn't help but keep staring at him. Maybe because now he couldn’t call himself a Capulet anymore.

"I  _ thought  _ I knew him. And still he _drowned_ me."

That was when they crashed into each other, not as literally as it happened with Mercutio perhaps, but just as fast, and strongly. Because they both knew him by then. 

And better, they knew themselves. It would take little to learn of the other one now. 

  
  


Mercutio knew, he always did, and yet there was nothing wrong with it in his mind. There was a music, a song, a dance that never stopped, like a charm, like a curse, and he couldn't stop. It was the rest of the world that stopped around him.

\-  _ He looked back, sometimes, he looked at the two boys he left behind, he wished he could stop, or take a step back. But maybe that was meant to be. Because he knew love, capricious, silly love, and he knew them. So he moved forward, looking back only from time to time to make sure they still were there. _

_ They were. -  _

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> First of all, this was written for the Romeo and Juliet week on tumblr.  
> It's not my best work, and it's fairly short for my usual standards, but I'm still satisfied with it, with some parts more than others.  
> The smallest note, at the ending, when talking about burning and drowning, I choose that only because of the respective family colors.  
> The song is "I know him so well", because... Well, because I fell in love with that musical, and it fit this idea all too well not to use it.
> 
> Well, that said, Future works will be better, longer... most likely even sadder.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> And thanks for cheering for me all the way through this fic.
> 
> ~Phanie~


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